


Since You Left Me

by orphan_account



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Crying, Diary, Implied/Referenced Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining, Police, Screaming, Sorry Not Sorry, Suitcases, heart-breaking, pure angst, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil's diary. On the day that Dan walked out of his life, Phil started a diary as a way to work through his feelings.</p><p>**No update schedule! I will post new chapters as I write them.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If I Lay Here

**Author's Note:**

> Two chaptered fics at once, oh shit whattup! So, this one will not have a schedule, but should still have decently spaced updates. It could be three in one day, and then no more for two weeks. I'm sorry about that. I'm also sorry that these will likely be short chapters (less than 1k) Yes, I know they were on tour at this point. this isn't canon so please dont shout at me in the comments I am a smol bean who is easily scared and cries when people yell
> 
> This chapter's title is from "Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol

_May 12, 2016; Day One_

Dear Diary,

That sounds absolutely stupid. Thought that I should write things down, as a way to ‘work through my feelings’, or whatever. It’s kind of an idiotic thing, but maybe it’ll help. Yesterday was the worst day of my life, however comical and cliché it sounds. I mean it, though. Even in my worst nightmares, I could never imagine anything like this.

When I woke, the flat was too quiet. The air was thick and tension was filling every empty space. It was like something big was about to happen, and something did. Noise, all of a sudden. The scraping sound of fabric, clinking glass and plastic, stomping footsteps. Naturally, I worried that someone’d broken in, so I pick up the heaviest thing in my room- a hardback novel. I went into Dan’s room, and it’s just him, packing a suitcase, neatly folding his clothes and tucking them beside things like his laptop, and the charger for it and his phone. It would have been easier, I think, if he was crying, or breathing heavily, or something other than just the utter determination on his face.

“Dan? What are you doing?” Even to my own ears, I sounded pathetic and sad.

“I’m leaving,” he answered gruffly. He closed his suitcase and stood up. His room was devoid of the things that made it his, even though the butt-chair, piano, and duvet were still there. Gone were his shoes, his little knick-knacks. Thrown open, the drawers of his dresser and doors of his wardrobe displayed the fact that they were barren. I sprang into action, grabbing his shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” demanded Dan, pushing me off of him.

Tears brimmed in my eyes, I could feel them there. “What’s wrong? Why are you moving out? Where are you going?”

“I can’t do it anymore, Phil. I just can’t. I’m not coming back. Goodbye.” Just like that, the most important person in my life walked out the front door of my flat, dropping his key on the floor.

For a while, I just stood there, in the middle of Dan’s room, staring at the bronze thing by my feet. What went wrong? What did I do? It strikes me, then. An animalistic scream just exploded outward from me, and I fell to my knees, curling up, just screaming. After about ten minutes, the neighbors called the police, who showed up, concerned something was wrong, calling my and Dan’s name after coming through the unlocked door. Then they found me, asked what happened, if they should call someone, if I was okay. I was very much not okay, thank you very much. Eventually though, they managed to coax me into giving them PJ’s number. I almost spouted out Dan’s, by habit. What a catastrophe that would have been. By the time PJ arrived, they were all gone except, who stayed to keep an eye on me.

“Phil,” he said softly as he approached, like I was a wild animal that might go rabid. I don’t blame him, I felt like something carnal. “Phil, what happened, where’s Dan?”

Lifting my face from my arms, I realized I had been crying, so I dried my cheeks. “He packed his suitcase, and he left. And he said it was for good.”

PJ offered to stay the night with me last night, and I told him that he didn’t have to, but he insisted. As I lied awake in my bed, I broke down. People always write in their little Phanfictions that I saved Dan, or something like that. Loyal phans who spend their time writing about us say that I did things like rescue Dan from depression, or convinced him to stop self-harming, or talked him down from suicide. Really, it’s the other way around. A cute, little, adorable teenager pulled me from my sadness. He brought real color to my plastic life. He’s the reason the scars on my thighs stayed just that- scars. Dan saved me. I got dependent on him, I started to rely on him for happiness. It’s my fault. He got big, he got famous, got more subscribers than I have. He doubled my sub count. I’m proud of him.

Getting up this morning was painful. I opened my eyes, excited to tell Dan about a cool idea I had for a collab, and then I remembered. Carefully, I made my way into the bathroom and showered, not bothering to shave or put in contacts. My glasses perched on my nose crookedly after I got dressed in a hoodie and a pair of pajama pants. Maybe breakfast would help me feel better, so I went into the kitchen. On the counter were the two boxes of Dan’s cereal. Suddenly, I wasn’t hungry anymore, so I went into the lounge. PJ was sleeping on the pull out bed in the office, having refused to sleep in Dan’s bed, so it was empty, startlingly so. I realized that Dan’s things he had placed in the living room were gone too. Even his sofa crease had an abandoned and forlorn look to it. I sat down on the floor and turned on the TV. Of course, the show cued up was the anime we had been watching together. Everything in our flat is just a reminder of him. My feet moved of their own accord to the kitchen, where a seldom opened cabinet waited.

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” I muttered darkly, pulling out a bottle of vodka and cracking it open. It was bitter and heavy on my tongue, so I grimaced while swallowing it. I still drank from it again, even though I despised the taste, because each gulp dulled the ache I felt in my heart.

Half of a bottle later, PJ woke up. I looked up when I heard him clear his throat from the doorway. “Phil, you should put that bottle away.” I begrudgingly listened to him, putting the cork into the top of the glass bottle. However, I was shaking so badly, that I dropped it. Glass shattered all over the floor and me. It was enough for me to start crying again. I walked over the broken glass, not noticing the sharp pains in my feet, or the way PJ gasped. Simply, I fell into his arms and sobbed against his chest. PJ’s a good friend, because he didn’t ask any questions, yell at me, or demand I go sit down and take care of my wounds. He just held me, rocking us back and forth until I could calm down.


	2. I Lost a Friend Somewhere Along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "How to Save a Life" by The Fray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting a lil more writing done woot woot! unbeta'd, so let me know if you catch any mistakes. 
> 
> Looking for oneshot betas and writers for collabs! Apply for both on my writing tumblr, somanydestiel.tumblr.com  
> Anon is enabled, so don't worry if you don't have an account.  
> Requirements for Beta: First Name, Pronouns, Timezone, Email  
> Requirements for Collab: First Name, Pronouns, TImezone, Email, a link to something you've written, what POVs and Genres you prefer.  
> More information in "Attention", which I posted a few days ago if needed. Thank frens

_May 13, 2016; Day Two_

Dear Diary,

PJ helped me with the cuts in my feet, and he seems to have some idea that if he leaves me alone I’ll do something stupid. He’s right. I promised myself I wouldn’t get dependent on Dan, because he couldn’t always be my crutch, but I failed. To his credit, PJ doesn’t talk about Dan, at all. When he reminds me to do things like eat, and breathe, he doesn’t do that bullshit like in the movies where they say to do it for whomever left them. PJ told me to do it for myself, helped me until I can function and regulate the expansion of my lungs without him modeling deep breaths and making me match mine to his. It should feel ridiculous that I can’t even fend off a panic attack, but I couldn’t make myself dwell on it while it was happening. Of course, afterward PJ put on an inane television show and made me tea, insisting I watch and calm down. He even sat with me, holding me close to him with an arm around my shoulder and telling me that it’s okay and it isn’t my fault. I don’t know what he meant isn’t my fault; my shitty lungs, my broken heart, my best friend leaving me. Maybe all of them. But he’s wrong, they’re all my fault.

On the reality show/competition style program that I was half paying attention to, a girl jumped into some sludgy bowl of who-knows-what. Behind me, PJ laughed. I feel like I’m not even alive, like I’m a shell. I’m broken. How did I manage to become that reliant on Dan? In just two days of absence I’ve fallen apart. Should I check twitter? No. Am I going to? Yes. I pulled out my phone and opened it up, clicking on the notification for Dan’s tweets even though I knew it couldn’t end well. The tweet read: I’m sorry guys but I’m taking a break from YouTube, and all social media. My heart fell. Something could be wrong with him, something I should’ve seen, but didn’t. What did I miss, where did I go wrong? Why didn’t I see something was upsetting him? I’m stupid, so stupid.

“I can hear the gears turning in your head,” PJ said, not looking away from the television. “What are you thinking about?”

I looked at him, clicking off my phone’s screen. “Dan.”

Instead of telling me not to think about him, getting upset, or prying, PJ just put his other arm around me and held me tighter. I’m lucky to have a friend like him. “I care about you, Phil. I know how you were before Dan, and you had happy times. You don’t have to move on from a seven-year friendship in a day, take as much time as you need.” He pressed a fatherly kiss to the top of my head, and I felt like a child again. No matter what, PJ will take care of me. We sat in silence for a moment before PJ’s phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced at it and turned away, then did a double take and stared at him. He sent me an apologetic look and rocketed upward, answering his phone. I feared the worst. For a moment, my voice didn’t work.

“Peej?”

“Hey, Dan,” He said, walking off somewhere, presumably the office. Why did Dan call PJ? What if it wasn’t Dan, and something happened to him? My thoughts instantly jumped to the worst conclusion. I was left to my own devices to keep entertained and somewhat okay until PJ could get back to me and explain. My chest couldn’t expand and it hurt when my heart would beat against my ribs and fail to pump blood. God, I’m such a fuck-up that I can’t be alone for more than a minute without having a panic attack. I could hear PJ’s voice fluctuating in volume, getting loud and then silent, quiet, normal, quieter, loud. I didn’t want to know what was being said. Even if I craved the answers, what good would knowing why Dan left do for me if it was for the thoughts I had? Maybe he realized how worthless and stupid I am.

Softly, the office door opened and PJ’s footsteps padded down the hall towards me. “Dan called you.”

“He did,” answered PJ, sitting back on the couch beside me, but I saw how tightly clenched his fingers were on his phone. I shouldn’t’ve asked, but I did.

“Why?”

PJ wouldn’t look at me. “He wanted me to tell you to take his name off of the bills and that he’s blocked your number and all your social media.” I turned my face against his warm chest, burying the tears that began to spill from my eyes in the fabric of his jumper. Ever the good friend, PJ put his arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. Cozy. Comforting. But it couldn’t make the emptiness that’s taken up residence in my heart go away. My gentle tears turned into ugly sobs and I was probably ruining PJ’s jumper with how much I was wrinkling it, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Phil, I need you to breathe,” he reminds gently. It made me realize that I hadn’t been. Sucking in a breath, I curled up as much as I could so that I was just a tight little ball at PJ’s side. Even though I was breathing, it felt like my lungs still weren’t getting enough air into them.

“Can’t,” I whispered, gripping his jumper white knuckled and with shaking hands. “Peej. Hurts.”

“Phil, I need you to take deep breaths with me. You’re okay. You’re safe. In.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Out.” He blew the air from his lips. “In, out.”

I dropped his jumper and grabbed his hands. He interlaced our fingers. “Help.”

“It’s okay. Breathe with me. In, out. You’re doing really good, Phil. In, out.” I knew I wasn’t actually doing good, but his voice was soothing. I found myself listening to him, forcing breath into my lungs. After a few moments I felt much calmer, much better. Thank god for PJ.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be. Do you want take-out or something for dinner?”

I shook my head. “I’m not really hungry, I’m just going to go to bed. Night, Peej.” For a long while after that, I just sat in my bed, silent and hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... any thoughts on Peej?


	3. Parts of Me that Aren't All that Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW TW TW TW TW TW TW be warned
> 
> title from "Just Give Me a Reason" by Pink

_May 14, 2016; Day Three_

Dear Diary,

When I woke up, there was already a migraine brewing in my head, so I refused to get up. I can’t stop myself from thinking about Dan. He knew that I relied on him to keep me together. He _knew_ that I poured everything I had into our friendship. And he left me anyways. They say there are five stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I realized I was grieving. I got past denial, on the very first night. Now I’m angry, and it seems to fit. So, I guess it’s like something died. Dan didn’t die, but he might as well have. After a while PJ came to get me. He said he wouldn’t let me mope around and gave me a couple of pills to take for the pain. Then, he insisted we do something today. Film a collab. Walk in the park. Go get some pizza or something. I put on my black skinny jeans and uni hoodie. I didn’t want to be stopped by any fans today. I just couldn’t handle it because they’d ask me where Dan is. I’d have to tell them I don’t know.

Outside, it was too bright for me, so I put my sunglasses on to combat the stupid sunshine. It mocked me, daring to be bright when I was so sad. We made a trip to all the necessary places to remove Dan’s name from the bills for the flat, electricity, Wi-Fi, all of it. Then PJ suggested that we get frozen yogurt or something, but I couldn’t do it. Dan and I always got frozen yogurt and that fact shouldn’t make it as hard as it is to have the treat. Instead we settled on ice cream, going to an old fashioned shop that had crisp vanilla bean ice cream. It was really good, and I’m proud that I didn’t cry today. Maybe it was because I was empty. I can’t feel anything. I want to be angry that he left, sad, anything, but I’m not. I’m hollow. Almost like I’m the husk of corn, drifting because everything of worth is just… gone. Dan would be proud of me if he heard that, I think. He made fun of my lame analogies and jokes, but off camera always made sure to tell me what he really thought. Dan was an author. He liked words. Now, he’s gone from my life. Shouldn’t I be able to move past this? It’s not like we were together or anything. Just friends. Perpetually platonic.

“What are you thinking about?” PJ asked me when we got home and I had just sat on the couch, staring at nothing.

“Why aren’t I over Dan? He was never my boyfriend, we were only ever friends,” I answered, pulling my knees up to my chest with a shuddering breath. “I’m just wasting your time, because you’re stuck here by your moral obligations to make sure I don’t die, or whatever.”

PJ sat next to me and wrapped an arm around me. “Phil, it takes time. Dan was a big part of your life, romantic or not. I don’t expect you to suddenly be able to function without someone you were dependent on after only a couple of days.” I shot off the couch.

“THAT’S THE THING! I’VE BEEN A CONSTANT PLAYER TWO! DAN’S ALWAYS BEEN BETTER THAN ME! People love to watch him because he’s so smart and pretty and perfect. Why does he get everything? Why? Isn’t enough for me to _know_ he’s too good for me without millions of people rubbing it in my face? I’m sick of being in love with him!”

It only took me a moment to realize what I’d just said. “Phil-” PJ began, sensing the panic clawing up my throat.

“I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Phil, please-” Stepping calmly toward me, PJ reached out one arm but I jumped back.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” I screamed and bolted into my room, slamming the door and wishing it had a lock. I fucked up. I fuck everything up. I fucking fell in love with Dan. I’m stupid, I’m worthless, I’m horrible. No one would care if I died. They’d be relieved. Without meaning to, I looked over to my nightstand. Sitting there was the bottle of pills from when PJ helped with my headache. They’re tempting. But I couldn’t do it. I was too weak. I’ve never been strong; it’s always been Dan. Dan’s the one who’s always been strong.

I hate myself.

Silently, I cracked the door open. PJ was poised in front of the door, fist raised to knock. Stepping to one side, I gestured for him to come in and then went over to my bed, crawling underneath the covers fully dressed. He came to sit beside me, the stereotypical good friend PJ is. I feel bad that he’s stuck with me. I’m worthless. I’m ugly. I’m-

“No, you aren’t,” PJ told me, making me realize I had been saying my thoughts aloud. I refused to meet his eyes. Instead of saying anything else, PJ just dove under the duvet as well, content to lay with me. I would’ve gone to sleep, but it was still just afternoon. For a couple of hours, we just lied there, content with silence. At some point I pulled out my diary and started writing in it. PJ didn’t say anything or try to read it, he just smiled at me and shut his eyes peacefully.

Dear Diary, PJ looks content.

He’d fallen asleep, slightly curly hair covering his face. I brushed the hair away from his eyes and he stirred under my touch. I’m glad he’s catching up on sleep because I know he was up late last night. And the night before that. It’s all my fault. At least now PJ’s relaxed, though.

I wound up getting out of bed not soon after that, and went into the kitchen, originally for a drink. PJ’s face flashed in my head and I decided not to, though, instead beginning to prepare us dinner. PJ was still asleep when I was done, so I put the spaghetti (an easy dish) onto a tray, alongside two glasses of wine. I still wanted to drink, sue me.

“PJ,” I said softly, shaking him awake. “I made dinner.”

It felt so domestic when I sat next to him and began eating, the tray in between us. I get why people shipped Dan and I, because we did things like that all the time- No. No more Dan tonight. He frowned at my choice of drink for us but drank it without complaint, even complimenting me on the pasta. Together we demolished all of the food and then I got up to take a shower while he did the dishes. In the mirror, I flinched at my reflection. I was paler than usual, there are bags under my eyes, and a frown was pulling the corners of my lips. When I undressed all I saw were the scars adorning my hips, mocking me. What’s one more? I opened the drawer in the bathroom and dug around for the little box tucked away in the very back of the clutter. I had always kept them, even though I promised Dan I had thrown them away. Pulling one of the blades, I examined it in the light. It was still sharp, and it wasn’t rusty. Funny how I care about Tetanus, when I’m literally about to destroy myself. My first thought was how easy it would be to slit my wrists, but I couldn’t do it. I never could. Instead my hand found its way to my upper thighs, digging in the metal. Instantly I felt just a little bit better.

Dan always thought that when I would cut that I would be crying, freaking out, hysterical, but it’s not like that. I don’t know why people assume it is. I’m calmest with my blade, blood dripping everywhere. I can panic about cleaning up later. I cut again, deeper that time, and watched the blood well up.  Another soothing wave of numbness washed over me. Several more times I cut, and then I got in the shower. By the time I got out they were still bleeding but I couldn’t care less. Hurriedly, I got dressed and went to the lounge to wish PJ a good night. His eyes trailed to my legs.

“Phil, why?” He asked softly. I looked down and noticed the blood leaking through my pajama pants. Instantly I burst into tears. PJ though, he kept calm. Helping me out of my pants, he sat me on the edge of the bathtub and cleaned the cuts out before bandaging them up. Two white bands, one on each leg. He scooped me up and carried me to my bed, tucking me in. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was practically asleep.

“G’night,” I mumbled.

“Night, Phil.” I could’ve sworn I felt his lips brush my forehead, but I know they didn’t. No one wants a broken abomination like me.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, don't hesitate to obliterate the kudos button, or maybe subscribe to find out when I manage to update. I accept requests here on AO3, or on my writing tumblr, somanydestiel.tumblr.com
> 
> Should you find an error, please let me know and I'll fix it, as this is unbeta'd.


End file.
